Last Request
by Bad cactus
Summary: Spike says a final farewell to Buffy. Angel suggest a new career path.


Last Request  
  
The hardest thing in this world is to live in it. Bugger that.  
  
The rain had started after the sun set. A slow drizzle. He leaned against a tree, looking out over the graveyard, listening to the rain on the leaves. It had been sunny at the funeral, or he would have gone.  
  
Or not. Friends and family had gathered together to bid farewell to someone they had loved, someone who had held a place in their lives. How would he have fit in? Awkward moments with people who had never accepted him. Why bother pretending? What had gone on between Buffy and him, what they had shared, had died with her. Or maybe it was gone before that. Had she been denying what she felt for him or had he been fooling himself, thinking that he and she could share more than...?  
  
The issue was moot now. All those times he had looked in her face, searched for a sign that she returned his feelings. That wouldn't happen again. He had looked in her face that one last time and had known she was dying. A vampire knows these things, even if he's lying to himself. He had seen too much death not to recognize the fading heartbeat, the slowed breathing, the signs that one more soul was soon to leave this world.  
  
"Hold on, you're going to make it. Just hold on." He hadn't fooled her. She knew about death too. She'd seen it firsthand before. That was another thing they'd shared: they had both died, had both crawled from the grave. And now she was dying again. Her friends arrived and shoved him aside. Her real friends. She had spent her last moments with them while he wandered off, the smell of her blood in his nose.  
  
She had fought and she had won, and now she was gone to a better place. She wouldn't be coming back this time. They would let her rest this time. Eternal rest. Rest in peace. Ashes to ashes...   
  
She had left him one final time. Left her friends also, but they had each other. They'd pull each other through. But him? He had nothing, nothing that he cared about. Nothing.  
  
The emptiness inside him had always been there. He knew that now. He hadn't really noticed it until she'd come along. While she lived, it was bearable. Even when he had lost hope that she would ever fill that void, it was bearable. Or maybe he hadn't really lost hope, not deep down. Love is a funny thing, even hopeless love.  
  
He was fidgeting. He needed a drink. He needed a smoke. No, he needed ... He'd promised himself that he wouldn't drink or smoke until... He sighed. He hadn't quit the booze and the cigarettes because of some promise to himself, but because they didn't help. Smoking didn't calm him down, drinking didn't take away the pain.   
  
He was numb, empty. Anger, grief? At some level that he was feeling them, but they didn't touch him. Nothing mattered.   
  
It was time. How long had he waited there? Hours, moments? Did it matter? Yes. He had to leave himself enough driving time to get out of Sunnydale, to get far away before sunrise.   
  
Ah, sunrise. A vampire's worst fear. He snorted. He didn't care about the sunrise, but he didn't want to die here. He didn't want to give the Scoobies the satisfaction. He had just that much dignity.  
  
It was time to pay his respects to the fallen. He hadn't brought flowers. Leave nothing behind, not one sign that he had ever been there. Just vanish. Not a trace. He marched resolutely to the gravesite. The smell of the earth from the fresh grave, the smell of wet grass and damp leather. He would remember this moment. He would remember it until he died. This was the last moment he would grieve for the Slayer.  
  
Right. That's it then. He nodded to himself. Goodbye, Buffy. I loved you. I lost you. Wherever you are, take care of yourself. Right. He turned to leave and stopped short. There was another man there.   
  
"Yes or no, Spike? Yes or no?" No, not another man. And he had a stake in his hand.  
  
"I've got nothing to say to you, Angelus." Bloody hell, I'm not thinking straight, he thought. Of course he would come here tonight. Well, isn't this just ducky? Of all the people I don't want to see right now...  
  
Spike had many reasons to hate Angel, but two stood out in his mind. Jealousy over Buffy was one. Buffy had loved Angel, really loved him. And Spike? He was a secret shame, a dirty little secret and after he had come back from Africa, a charity case.  
  
The second reason? Spike hated being pushed around, rejected, abused. Bloody Scoobies! He'd fought on their side right to the end. He would have given anything these past couple of days to join them, even for one minute, as they mourned and remembered the Buffy they had lost. But every time he'd get near, they'd go quiet, staring at him, the outsider. Then Harris would open his mouth. Bloody hell, he hated the lot of them right now. All he had was a few minutes to stand by her grave, but even that was too good for him. No, they had to keep sticking it to him, the Scoobies by day and now Angel after dark. Wanker! Where was Angel when Buffy needed him?   
  
"The name's Angel, and I asked you a question."  
  
"I haven't taken orders from you for some time. Angel. And if you want ..." Angel charged.  
  
Angel was older and stronger than he was, but Spike had learned a few tricks since the last time they had tangled. They didn't help. He had expected to exchange verbal barbs with Goodie Two Shoes and walk away. The suddenness of the attack surprised him. And he was not healed from that last battle, hadn't eaten or slept properly since she died. He soon found himself pinned to the ground. He felt the point of the stake pressed against his back. Once again, Angel had beaten him.  
  
"You could have killed me anytime before now. You had to do it here, in front of Buffy though, didn't you? You haven't changed that much at all. Angelus."  
  
Angel twisted his arm painfully. "Shut up, Spike."  
  
"Just do what you came here to do."  
  
"Spike, did you turn Buffy?"  
  
"Turn Buffy? What are you talking about?'  
  
Angel's voice lowered to a menacing growl. "Spike, did you turn Buffy?"  
  
"No. No, I didn't. Who told you...?"  
  
Angel released him, stood up, stepped back a pace. "You were with her just before she died. Xander told me..."  
  
Spike sat up. "What did he tell you?" This was the last straw. Maybe he would stay in Sunnydale a little bit longer after all.   
  
"He told me how she died. You were alone with her. I had to be sure."  
  
"I wouldn't put her through that. I saw what it did to coming back the last time."  
  
"Yes, that really threw her for a loop. It's the only reason I can see her getting involved with you."  
  
Spike started to rise, but Angel pushed him back to the ground.  
  
Angel stared hard at Spike for a moment, then decided to believe the younger vampire. "Don't tell me you weren't tempted. "  
  
Spike covered his eyes with his hands. "Not until it was too late."  
  
Angel's expression softened fractionally.  
  
Spike stood up and picked grass off his jacket. "So the stake was for her? Now that's a change." He knew that Angel would stay a while longer at the grave. With the stake ready. Just to be sure. "Don't stay up past your bedtime." He began to walk away.  
  
"I have something for you too, Spike. I was going to look for you after, but since you're here..."  
  
"I don't want anything from you."  
  
"I think you'll be interested."   
  
"Yeah well, you know what? I'm not. I'm in a bit of a hurry now, so ... it's been swell." Spike began to walk away.  
  
Angel followed behind, overtaking him at the cemetery gates, blocking the exit.  
  
"You're leaving Sunnydale?"  
  
Spike turned to face Angel. "None of your business."  
  
"I've made it my business. Now you can stand here and listen to me for five minutes or I can plant your face in the ground again. And you can listen to me for five minutes."  
  
"What do you want?"  
  
Angel began. "There's a job that needs to be done, Spike. A certain type of person is needed for this particular job."  
  
"A job? That's what you're offering? You want me to work for you?"  
  
"No, not for me. I don't want to work with you. I don't really want to see you again after tonight. And I don't care if you accept it or not. I just have to find you and make the offer."  
  
"Who sent you?" asked Spike, weary and indifferent. Angel would tell him more. Or not. Then he would leave. Five minutes.   
  
"Spike, there are certain powers at work in this world. They haven't written you off. Not yet. They want to give you another chance." He paused. "Maybe there's more good in you than some people think." Angel was skeptical on this point, and it showed. "But if you leave like this, you're back at square one. You know what it was like before ... before Sunnydale. You don't want to go back to that."  
  
"Before I hooked up with Buffy, you mean."  
  
"Watch yourself. There's nothing stopping me from beating you senseless."  
  
The look of pain that had briefly flashed across Angel's face was worth a few bruises, by Spike's calculations. He shrugged. He could taunt Angel later.  
  
"I've done some bad things in my time, Spike. You know that as well as anyone. I hurt a lot of people. I'm not like that anymore. But that doesn't change what I've done. I owe something, some restitution. And I pay my debts."  
  
"Much as I'm fascinated by your life's story, maybe you'd better cut to the chase, hmm?" Spike tapped his wrist, where the face of a wristwatch would be.  
  
"You can make amends, Spike. If you want to, you can make it right." Angel pulled out an index card and handed it to him.   
  
Spike looked at the card, read it. "That's the new slayer." Angel nodded. "I have to kill the new slayer?"  
  
"No! Not kill her. You have to protect her, teach her, train her..."  
  
"She'll get a watcher for that." Spike started to hand the card back to Angel. "No. No, just a minute." Spike began to chuckle, then to laugh. "Watcher. You know, Angel old boy, I never appreciated your sense of humor before tonight."  
  
"It's not a joke, Spike."  
  
"Me? A Watcher? I'm a vampire. Slayers kill me. And I kill slayers. I don't mentor them."  
  
"You killed two slayers. And another slayer went to a lot of trouble for you. Now a slayer needs you. It's time to pay the piper."  
  
Spike looked thoughtful, solemn. "Of course, of course. But there's only one thing, you know. I don't want to get busted for watching without a license. No thanks. You have anything else to say?"  
  
Angel smiled wryly at him. "No, that's all. I've done my job. I knew Buffy was wrong about you."  
  
Spike flinched slightly. "Buffy believed in me."  
  
"She gave you a chance to be a part of something worthwhile, something worth fighting for. She thought you'd become a better man. But I saw through you all this time. And I was right."  
  
"You've been out of the picture for some time. You know bugger all about..."  
  
"You think you started being pathetic when they put that chip in your head? You're a sad little boy, William. The going gets tough, you run off like a crybaby. Like you're doing right now. Like you always did, hiding behind Dru's skirts."  
  
"Running off? You're one to talk, what about..."  
  
"You think you impress anyone with what happened between you and Buffy? I don't know who to feel more sorry for. You didn't have a chance until you caught her at a low point. Once she got her head together, where did you end up? Out the door. So you try to win her back, do you? How? You show up in a high school basement, mumbling to yourself. She's got a big heart all right, but I can't figure out where she gets all the pity she's handed out ..."  
  
Spike leapt at Angel, but the older vampire was ready for the attack and easily brushed it aside. They fought for a few moments, and once again, Spike got the worst of it. He was soon on the ground again. He yelled in rage and frustration, but made no effort to rise.  
  
Angel loomed over him. "Spike, I know what you're going through."  
  
"You don't know ..."  
  
"I do know. I've been there. And it only gets harder. I spent the better part of a century coming to terms. And I still have a ways to go."  
  
"Me, a watcher? That's going to help? I can't be a watcher."  
  
"Giles was a watcher. You don't think you can fill his shoes?"  
  
"They'd never have me. I don't have the breeding. Or the breathing."  
  
"The watcher's council is ... well, it's not in good shape right now. It'll take some time for them to get up and running again. But there's a slayer who needs training and guidance right now. She'll die if there's no one there for her."  
  
"Why me?"  
  
"You know about vampires, and you know about slayers. And you have a British accent."  
  
Spike thought for a moment. "This is going to save me from damnation, is that right?"  
  
"Not a good enough reason? All right. If you don't train the new slayer, I will. I'll do it for Buffy."   
  
Spike stiffened, then raised an eyebrow inquisitively. Angel continued. "Oh, and once I'm sure she knows what she's doing, the two of us will hunt you down and kill you. Does that help you make up your mind?"  
  
Spike stood up. "You don't frighten me. I'm not going to do this because I'm scared of big bad Angel. I'll do it because the new slayer needs someone decent watching out for her. And to prove you wrong." More quietly, he said, "And because Buffy would have wanted it."  
  
Angel shrugged. "I don't care what your reasons are."  
  
"What about the Scoobies? Do they know about this?"  
  
"You might need their help." Spike responded with a contemptuous snort.  
  
Angel turned and began to walk away, but Spike had one last question. "So what do I do? I knock on her door and say 'Hi, I'm your new watcher?'"  
  
Angel stopped and answered. "You figure it out. You're in a hurry, remember? And I still have that stake. Get out of here." 


End file.
